


A Thousand Endings

by dls



Series: Hope You Don't Stop Running (to me 'cause I'll always be waiting) [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, How I Met Your Mother, Inception (2010), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Civil War Team Iron Man, Crossover, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Multiple Crossovers, Spoilers, Time Lord Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls
Summary: Being in the right place at the right time could make all the difference.Or: 5 Worlds Tony Stark (and sometimes Loki) Made Better and the 1 That Could Have Been





	A Thousand Endings

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry that it took me _years_ to wrap up this trilogy but better late than never, right? This is pretty much the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written, just having some fun fixing other fandoms with the help of Time Lord!Tony and (sometimes) Trickster!Loki before circling back to the MCU...where things aren't quite as fun. 
> 
> As far as relationships go, you'll see the canon ones (Robb/Talisa, Dom/Mal, and Ted/Tracy) but if you squint, you may also find hints of Arthur/Eames and a suggestion of Billy/Steve. ;)
> 
> **Spoilers ahead!**
> 
> Beta-ed by [Arboreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal/pseuds/Arboreal).
> 
> References/Quotes:  
Title from "Cinema" by Benny Benassi & Gary Go.  
_Game of Thrones (S03E09)_.  
_Inception_.  
_Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_.  
_How I Met Your Mother_.  
_Stranger Things_.  
_Avengers: Infinity War_.

**One.**

"Your Grace, I feel I've been remiss in my duties."

Robb looked up at Lord Walder, unbothered by the older man's self-satisfied tone belying the implied apology in his words. The double speak of noblemen was still new to his tongue but not to his ears. His heart twisted at the thought that one day, he might speak as falsely as the Southern lords who had joined his banner. There was little use for talking in riddles and conversing in circles back North, the flowery language of summer withered in the unrelenting winter.

"I've given you meat and wine and music, but I haven’t shown you the hospitality you deserve." Lord Walder continued in his nasally drawl, arrogance in every line of his face and malice in his eyes. "My King has married and I owe my new Queen a wedding gift."

Bitter words, thick with mockery and thin on civility. Only words, nothing more. The broken engagement had been mended by his uncle's new marriage, a wedding they had just witnessed and a celebration they had toasted to after breaking bread under the Frey's roof.

Yet a chill travelled down Robb's spine, coiling in his gut when the unmistakable slap of palm striking flesh shattered the tense silence. His mother had struck Lord Bolton.

Why? Such an act was in violation of the sacred law of hospitality.

"Robb!" His mother's anguished cry only heightened his dread and confusion.

With a question on his lips, Robb turned and caught a figure in his periphery. A man strode toward Talisa, reaching into his sleeve, the dagger in his grip gleamed in the candlelight.

_Dagger._

_At a wedding._

Before he could react, could do anything more than watch helplessly, a low buzz filled the air.

The walls shook and the grounds quaked. Outside, wolves howled.

Robb stared, stunned, as the blade melted like wax and the handle snapped in half.

The man, a Frey, stumbled back with an alarmed cry.

Equally terrified shouts rang through the spacious hall as crossbows and swords fell apart, slipping through the limp fingers of trembling men and clattering to the floor.

"We are your _guests_." Robb snarled, the earlier uneasiness igniting into rage. "You will answer for your crime."

"May you burn in the seventh hell." His mother hissed as she crossed the hall quickly to be at Talisa's side.

Lord Walder stared at them with wide eyes, terrified and sunken in his sallow cheeks.

*

Tywin Lannister suffered a malady of the heart, collapsing in his solar after receiving a raven from the Riverlands. His death was soon forgotten, however, as the events of what came to be known as the Red Wedding rippled across the Seven Kingdoms.

Those who were in attendance said the blood of the Freys and Boltons drenched the halls and stained the Trident. The river ran crimson as whispers about the Stranger's punishment of those who dared to break the sanctity of guest right struck fear throughout the lands.

The North would always remember and none in Westeros would dare forget.

And the Starks survived.

**Two.**

There was something wrong with Mal. Dom knew it with the same bone deep certainty as he knew that this world they were in wasn't real. The dream had become a nightmare, a lie masquerading as the truth, a gift-wrapped box that was empty inside.

Mal's refusal to believe him chipped away at him, making him brittle and ready to snap. If she had lost her trust in him...then would he be betraying hers?

He had been asking himself that question ever since he found the incongruous cottage amidst the city scape they had built. The sight of it had confirmed his worst fear; Mal had hidden a part of her mind away. Not simply forgotten, as innocent as memories losing their luster over time, but purposefully suppressed. She had shoved the knowledge that they were in limbo aside like she had brushed off his pleas that they needed to wake up.

Dom couldn't live like this. Couldn't pretend they had built a life when they hadn't truly lived it.

_Till death do us part._

Only they would still be together.

If she would only put her hand in his and take that leap of faith.

Because as much as he wanted to rescue her from the labyrinth of limbo, she had to find her own way out. Intention was everything within a dream. He couldn't save her.

Mal's childhood home loomed before him, imposing despite its dilapidated state.

But he could help her.

Dom startled when he felt a touch at his temple, the briefest pressure that jolted something in his mind and sent him up and up and up...

...until he landed back in reality with Mal's hand in his and no memory of what had kicked them out of a multi-leveled dream.

*

Dom woke to the flight attendant asking if he would like a hot towel. He accepted it with a nod, scrubbing the sleep from his face.

Mal declined the offer, preferring to freshen up with some cold water on her face. As she headed toward the lavatory, she slanted a look to her left.

Arthur's lips curved imperceptibly as he stood to reach the overhead compartment for his carry-on bag, a navy blue bag with a subtle paisley pattern, and withdrew a well-loved copy of _The Magic of M. C. Escher._

Eames stretched, his arm splaying outrageously wide and his fingers grazing Arthur's waist in what, by all appearance, looked to be an accident. Except his mumbled apology sounded entirely too delighted to those who knew them.

Yusuf scrambled down the aisle in his haste to get to the other restroom. In his haste, he tripped over his own feet and bumped into another passenger.

Robert Fischer startled awake at the unexpected contact. Blinking groggily, he waved off the hurried man's apology, something about having had a bit too much free champagne before takeoff. When the flight attendant came by, he accepted the hot towel and asked for a cup of coffee.

Though by the time she brought him the drink, Robert was staring out the window, lost in thought and the towel cold in his hands.

In the front row of the first class cabin, Saito picked up the phone to fulfill his end of the deal.

Approximately eighteen months after Proclus Global acquired several key pieces of now-dissolved Fischer Marrow, Dreamshare was legalized by governments across the globe.

**Three.**

Merope pressed her fingers against her neck and winced when the bruises throbbed, left behind by an unforgiving grip. Her father had tried to kill her, wanted to choke the life out of her for loving and crying over a Muggle.

_But I got him, Father! I got him as he went by and he didn't look so pretty with hives all over him, did he, Merope?_

She had been sick when Morfin's hex struck Tom, her stomach twisting with worry and her heart breaking over the pain she had caused the boy who had made her days a little brighter with his warm laugh and gleaming smile.

_You disgusting little Squib, you filthy little blood traitor!_

Merope shivered, remembering her father's venomous words before his hands wrapped around her throat. 

Her father was silent and still now, stupfied by the team of Aurors. Her brother was in a similar state next to him. She could feel their eyes on her, cold and furious and unblinking, like the snakes they so proudly proclaimed themselves to be. And she had been a worm, nothing more than a stain on their impeccable bloodline.

Mr. Ogden had told her that her father and brother would be taken away for quite some time, turned over to the Wizengamot to await judgement and likely imprisoned in Azakaban for their violent acts against both Muggles and Ministry of Magic officials.

Which meant she would finally be free from their abuse...but also that she would be without her family for the first time in her life. Instead of excitement, the thought filled her with unease. For all the abuse her father and brother had hurled at her, they had also provided for her. How was she supposed to-

A gentle touch on her elbow startled her out of her panic. "Miss Gaunt, it's time to leave." The man at her side had an American accent, which was as unusual as his complicated beard and the golden specks in his eyes.

"What? Where are we going?" She winced when she heard her own voice, a raspy croak.

"To the Wizarding World." His smile was kind and his tone was soothing. "We need to get your injury treated and your magical abilities assessed."

"But I'm a Squib-"

"That's not true." Another man, tall and lanky with glittering green eyes and a much more familiar accent, joined them. "I can sense magic in you, Miss Gaunt, that's why I've spoken to Mr. Ogden and made a case on your behalf."

Merope gaped at the two of them. Never in her wildest hopes had she pictured herself as a witch, a possibility that opened the door to a new future. She nodded, too stunned to speak, and followed them down a new path.

*

Months later, the Riddle family hosted a banquet celebrating the marriage of their son, Tom, and their new daughter-in-law, Cecelia. The grounds were beautiful, especially now that the unsightly shack had been removed. No one could remember why it had stood for so long when it had been uninhabited for years.

Years later, Hogwarts welcomed a new Potions Master. Professor Gaunt, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, had emerged as not only one of the most gifted witches of her generation but also a staunch advocate for non-magical persons, both Muggles and Squibs alike.

Decades later, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom met on Platform 9¾. The two boys were delighted to discover that their birthdays were merely a day apart, comparing stories of their most recent birthday parties while their parents, James and Lily and Frank and Alice, looked on with quiet pride.

**Four.**

Tracy navigated her way through the bustling crowd, sliding between groups of animated teenagers and dodging distracted businessmen with practice born out of rushing to various gigs while maneuvering a bass guitar case large enough that she could fit into it.

As Ted liked to claim.

He was ridiculous, with his dorky jokes and endless puns and annoying tendency to correct the most pedantic things, but she loved him anyway. More so with every passing day, from the way he kissed her in the morning and the songs he sang to their children at night.

She tried to recall the melody from last night and almost had it when a man crashed into her. If the fall hadn't knocked the breath out of her, the impact of the case slamming into her ribs definitely did.

The asshole, wearing an AC/DC shirt with mirrored sunglasses, didn't even stop to apologize.

Typical.

This was why she loved their house in Westchester County; far, far away from the many middle-aged rock-star wannabes in New York City.

Slowly, she picked herself up and made her way home.

Only to be rushed out the door once Ted heard what had happened and called Marshall and Lily, who were great friends and more than happy to watch the kids but also enabled Ted's tendency to overreact.

Tracy rolled her eyes the whole cab ride to the hospital. Ted was lucky that he was cute, especially when his face scrunched up with worry. At least their deductible had already been met for the year when Penny dislocated her elbow. Who knew softball could be so aggressive?

When the x-ray results came back, however, Tracy felt the lightheartedness drain away.

A tumor. Cancer. Stage one.

The doctors' assurances that her chances of recovery were very good and that they almost never discover it so early sounded far away, like she was underwater.

Ted's grip on her hand pulled her to the surface, fingers laced together as they had been on the day they vowed to be with each other in sickness and in health.

*

At his daughter's wedding, Ted told a _significantly_ abridged version of how he had met his wife, who kicked his shin lightly every time he started to go off on a tangent.

They danced together, swaying to the music. A second chance at a happy ending that was years in the making and deserved many more to come.

**Five.**

Billy could feel his patience shredding with every jab he aimed at the doorbell. He shifted his weight to his other foot and pressed the button again, smirking when he heard a shrill voice shouting out some muffled words.

If he wasn't having a good night, then no one else should be allowed to either. Especially not Princess Wheeler with her prim-and-proper sweaters and holier-than-thou attitude. What the fuck did Harrington see in her anyway?

The rumble of an engine caught his attention, a soft purr instead of the loud roar of his Camaro. A luxury car. And only one person with an expensive car would be coming by the Wheelers' at this time of the night.

Pivoting on his heel, Billy leaned against the brick wall with his arms crossed in a pose guaranteed to rile Harrington up. It was hilarious, really, how Harrington's face scrunched into a squint when he tried to glare. Like the stray cat Billy used to feed back in Cali, yellow eyes blinking closed and pink nose twitching whenever he dragged his fingers through its scruffy fur.

Except when he looked out into the street, it wasn't Harrington's Beemer cruising to a stop.

The hot rod red car was a combination of sleek and obnoxious that Billy could appreciate. Too bad some old guy was driving it.

"Billy Hargrove?"

"Who wants to know?" Billy bit out through gritted teeth. Nothing good ever came from people asking his name, making sure he was Neil's son so they knew exactly who to complain to about Billy's deviant behaviors.

The old guy shrugged, looking so goddamn relaxed that Billy wanted to punch him. "Max wants you to pick her up by Merrill's Pumpkin Patch. Don't be late."

A chill travelled down Billy's spine. The last three words sounded like a warning. "What-" His question was cut off by the squeal of tires. Instinctively, he tried to chase after it and got as far as the end of the driveway before he realized it was pointless. Shit!

"Hello? Can I help you?" A woman called out from behind him.

Billy glanced over his shoulder, scanning the silhouette framed temptingly in the pool of light spilling out of the Wheelers' entryway. Fancy Nancy definitely didn't have curves like those. He should go back, play nice and flirt a little, but he couldn't shake the apprehension pooling in his stomach.

Swearing, he stomped toward his car.

*

Sheriff Hopper was solemn as he read the press release on the Starcourt Mall fire, keeping his gaze firmly on the piece of paper and not the dozens of cameras.

After defecting from the USSR, Alexei found a new home at Murray's. Joyce visited him often, bringing him homecooked meals to offset the corndogs and Slurpees.

The Party spent the rest of the summer at the community pool, per Dustin's insistence. It was the only place where his friends couldn't tease him with endless renditions of the theme song for the Never Ending Story because Steve would blow the whistle whenever Lucas and Max started singing.

Despite his initial protests about what the chlorine would do to his hair, Steve was enjoying his new job immensely more than his old one at Scoops Ahoy. It helped that there was no secret Russian lab beneath the Hawkins Community Pool. Hopefully.

Billy badgered Steve constantly for slouching in the lifeguard chair, by pointing out where Steve had missed a spot with the sunscreen, and with reminders of how Steve only got the job because Billy couldn't get in the water until the cast was off. He had broken his wrist punching out a psycho strutting around like he was Arnold Schwarzenegger and cutting through lines at the Fun Fair.

Grigori was in the U.S. government's custody. His face was a mess.

**One.**

A gentle breeze swept through the spacious penthouse of Stark Tower.

Vision blinked. None of the windows were open and the climate control system would have filtered out the sharp scents of ozone and metal and electricity. How odd.

The wind picked up, whirring and wheezing like an engine that wouldn't quite start but climbing in volume and velocity all the same, and he felt the vibrations down to the very synthetic fiber of his being.

"Honey, I'm home." Tony sang, expression half-hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and arms spread-wide in an imitation of a hug that Vision knew better than to step into; he had lost that privilege when he chose to observe instead of intervene.

"Mr. Stark." Vision greeted calmly. As unlikely as Tony's return was based on his calculations, it was still a possibility and one that he had prepared himself for during all the hours and days and months of replaying and analyzing the events from the past year in his mind. "Welcome back."

Silence stretched between them, only broken when Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "You actually mean that."

Vision tilted his head, puzzled by Tony's incredulity. "Of course. As I've said before, there is a link between the number of enhanced persons and-

"-the number of world-ending events." Tony finished with something almost like approval in his tone but missing the previous warmth. "A world-ending event is coming your way so you need enhanced people to step up."

Despite his confusion at the shift in Tony's mood, Vision agreed. "Yes. We need help against Thanos, particularly after what had transpired in Greenwich Village today." He had not been involved in fending off the invasion, though the attackers' priority had been to abduct Dr. Strange and not laying waste to Lower Manhattan like the government officials had originally feared. "The Sorcerer Supreme was-"

"-taken by Squidward, I know." Tony shrugged, careless in a way that seemed genuine instead of affected, as if the fate of Earth legitimately did not interest him.

So why was he here?

Vision hadn't realized that the question might be perceived as rude until he asked it; the nuance of social interactions still eluded him and he hadn't had anyone to speak with for a long, long time.

Tony's lips quirked. "Because the kid deserves better than what he'll get, because I need closure, because the timeline demands it, because..." He trailed off with a vague wave of his hand. "...take your pick but you don't really care about why I'm back. You care about what I can do now that I am."

"That is accurate." Vision admitted, something twisted in his gut.

"Well, at least you're honest." Tony's laugh didn't sound happy. "Here's what I can do, I can make Thanos go away. Permanently."

Vision concluded that he had no reason not to believe Tony, who had already defied expectations by returning from his presumed death and who must have sought him out for a reason. "What do you need from me?"

"The Mind Stone."

"Eliminating the stone is the only way to be certain that Thanos can't get it." Vision nodded. "Thanos threatens half the Universe. One life cannot stand in the way of defeating him."

Tony huffed. "Eliminating _all _the stones, actually. And you're not going to die so quit it with the self-sacrificing pep talk. I'm going to reprogram the synapses to work collectively, the polymorphic structure wasn't the best call. Though, in my defense, I didn't know better."

"I will...live?"

"You won't die." Tony corrected. "But living? That's up to you."

Vision pondered this, found it too complex a topic for the current moment, and set it aside for later consideration. "How will you destroy the Infinity Stones? They are, as the name state, infinite."

"And I'm a Time Lord."

*

Thanos never landed on Earth, though his army did and left devastation in their wake despite the now-disgraced Avengers' best efforts.

Organizations, both government sanctioned and those that operated in shadows, arrived at the realization that superheroes could not and should not be their only line of defense. Especially given the hard-learned lesson that physical superiority and special abilities did not mean freedom from flaws. Plans were drafted and projects were approved for a defense system that was a global effort instead of being dependent on a group of powered individuals who had their own agendas.

It was a good start after a war that could have been much worse but it could have been better...so much better...if Earth hadn't lost her best defender in a series of betrayals culminating in the Superheroes Civil War.

**Author's Note:**

> [dls-ao3.tumblr.com](https://dls-ao3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
